A Deceptive Doomsday
by starseeker347
Summary: TF:A An old "friend" of Ratchets' arrives on Earth with a deadly secret that threatens not only her own life, but every Cybertronians' as well. Strange alliances, plot twists, and Sentinel bashing, oh my! Possible sequel. HIATUS and editting
1. Plot

**Author's Note**: I've been working on this one for a while now, and I'm still not sure about it, but I figured I would let the fabulous readers on this site decide if I should continue it. Funny story: when I first saw what _Transformers: Animated_ looked like, I really didn't like it. Then I happened to see _Megatron Rising, Part 2_ at a friend's house, and well, the rest is history. Now I can't wait for season three! One more thing: about Hook. I just needed a Decepticon that hadn't appeared in _Animated_ yet, and, since none of the known Decepticons fit the personality I was looking for, yes he is rather OC-ish. I really didn't want both an OC heroine and an OC villian.

Anyway, please read and review!

**Disclaimer**: I don't know own any part of the _Transformers_ franchise. I am not making money off this fabrication.

Chapter 1

**Plot**

_"Great things are done by a series of small things brought together."--Vincent Van Gogh_

An explosion sounded in the dark hallway as the red alarm lights and screeching siren went off. A black and silver femme, tall and lithe, Decepticon shield clearly displayed on her chest, shot through the newly formed door. She tore off down the corridor as an orange and black figure, larger than herself, appeared behind her, clearing smoke away from his optics with a hand.

"After her!" he yelled, following his own order. "Stop the traitor!"

Doors all down the hall opened, spewing forth other Decepticons. The femme activated her wrist cannons and fired away, bringing three mechs to their knees. She dodged past them, bringing the missile launchers on the underside of her wings to her shoulders, letting a burst off before dashing to the right, parrying a blow at her head with the heavy armor on her left forearm, firing at him with her other cannon. He fell to one side with a cry, leaving her in the middle of a knot of mechs, weapons leveled squarely at her spark chamber.

The femme whipped around the circle, spinning, searching for an opening. Hissing angrily, she whirled to where Hook was making his way between two of the mechs, a triumphant grin on his faceplate. He crossed his arms over chest.

"This is the end of the line, Wingshadow. Last chance. Join me in overthrowing the Autobots. We could rule the universe!" he said, gesturing grandly with his hands. "What's wrong with that?"

"Megatron would never let _you_ rule the universe," she spat at him.

His sardonic grin widened. "Precisely why we must eliminate him too, if he is even still out there somewhere in the grand expanse of the universe."

Wingshadows' crimson optics widened. "Are you out of your CPU? What kind of a Decepticon are you? We owe our allegiance to Mega—"

"_Don't_ tell me you've fallen for that lie too," he cut her off. "If Megatron were to dominate even Cybertron, none of us would possess any of the glory or bathe in the power. This way, all are equals." He laughed maliciously. "All who are loyal to me, at least." He sobered suddenly. "Which are you, Wingshadow?"

She narrowed her optics threateningly.

"Come now, don't be that way. You know far too much for me to just let you walk away. Why would you want to? I could give you power beyond your wildest dreams!"

Wingshadow reached behind her, fingers finding the familiar, reasurring heavy hilt of a sword made for a mech much larger than herself. "The Decepticons are not what they used to be," she told Hook, a twinge of sadness in her voice and optics. "What happened to our loyalty to our leader, to our mission?"

"That vanished when our _glorious_ leader did," he shot back, mocking the title.

"We don't _know_ that. You just said yourself that you would eliminate him—"

"_If _he were out there somewhere! You cling to the false hope that Megatron lives!" he found the idea hysterical, apparently. Wingshadow tightened her grip. "We _know_ he is gone! He was destroyed by the Autobots!"

"So _Starscream_ tells us—" she tried to undermine his mirth.

He stopped suddenly and pointed a finger at her, optics narrow slits. "Forget about our _supreme_ commander! Those cycles are long gone! We must live in the here and now, Wingshadow! And that includes helping me achieve our goal of complete domination."

Wingshadow cocked an optic ridge cynically. "'_Our_ goal'?" she repeated in disbelief. "Just who does 'our' entail?"

"The Decepticons, of course."

"You would name _yourself_ Supreme Commander? I will never allow that!"

"Is that your decision, then?"

Wingshadow's shoulders tensed, and she gripped the sword's handle with her palm. "I will _never_ betray Megatron! I will _never _side with you, and I will _never_ give up the ideals of the Decepticon army!"

He laughed in her face, and raw fury flooded her systems. "'Ideals'? You never struck me as _whimsical_, Commander. In fact, you sound like an _Autobot_."

The femme's optics widened and she reared back as if the words had slapped her square across the faceplate. _An Autobot? How dare he!?_ Her hand took the hilt and yanked, freeing the sword, whipping the blade out in front of her, drawing a collective gasp from the knot of mechs surrounding her as it was clearly recognized. Now it was Hook's turn to step back as the tip was thrust in his face.

"An _Autobot_?" she hissed, incredulous, anger springing from her glowing optics. "You will pay for that, Hook! By the destruction of your plans." Her free left hand shot up, over her helm, the cannon blazing, blasting a hole in the roof. She activated her thrusters and burst through the hole. But not fast enough to escape the words Hook shouted after her:

"You and what army, Wingshadow? I will label you a traitor, you hear me? The one who _murdered_ Megatron and used Starscream to cover for you! You wouldn't be able to go _near_ a civilized planet! You will be able to do _nothing_ but watch while I complete my plans, alone to wander and haunt the lonely places of the universe, until my armies find you and put you out of your misery! There is no way you can win, traitor!"

XXXXX

It was a typical day in the Autobot base on Earth. Ratchet was on monitor duty, Bumblebee and Sari were on the cement couch in the recreation room playing a racing game on Sari's huge television, Prowl was hanging from the tree in his room, and Optimus Prime and Bulkhead were out patrolling and attempting to show Sentinel Prime around Detroit and teach him more about Earth without him destroying too much. Ratchet was willing to bet a barrel of axle grease it wasn't working, but Ultra Magnus had ordered them to patrol, so patrol they did.

The Autobot Elite Guard had been on Earth all of three orbital cycles, and already dealing with his old "friend" was wearing on Optimus. The fact that Sentinel took every possible opportunity to bash on Optimus may have been a part of it. Still, Ratchet greatly admired the young Prime. He tried his best to do what he thought was right, even with the odds stacked against him. Ratchet had seen enough great leaders in his time to know that Optimus Prime had the makings to be one of the very best. And he would tear his own servos apart before he admitted _that_ out loud.

A loud whoop sounded from the other room. "Yes!" Sari shouted, and that, combined with Bumblebee's groan, told Ratchet that she had just won. Again.

"Oh yeah!" the human continued cheering. "In your face! That's, what, twenty to two?"

"What!? There's no way you're _that_ far ahead!" the yellow bot answered. "I had you at the end!"

"Will you two pipe down?" Ratchet roared. "Some of us are actually trying to do something worthwhile."

Two sets of footsteps beat across the floor, then two figures, one at the very bottom, one halfway up, appeared as the two smallest members of their team came to stand in the doorway . "Since when are video games not worthwhile?" asked Bumblebee.

"Since they were created," Prowl said, brushing past the pair into the room. He went to a console opposite the one Ratchet sat at.

"Oh yeah?" Bumblebee said, and Ratchet could see the beginnings of a very loud argument forming, and slouched over the monitor in dismay. "Well it's a lot better than sitting in a tree all afternoon. How is _that _worthwhile?"

"It allows me to collect my wits and find balance with those around me," Prowl answered calmly, hands flying over the keyboard. "Something very necessary when you are around."

"Hey!"

"Will you two knock it off!!" Ratchet surprised them all, whirling in his chair, drawing two sets of optics and one pair of eyes. They stared at him for a moment, mouth components formed into an 'O'. Ratchet glared at them all in turn and went back to his monitor.

"What's his problem?" Bumblebee whispered to Sari, fully aware that the medical officer could clearly hear him. "I mean, Ratchet's got a servo in the scrap heap, but what's with the extra grouchiness?"

"I'LL show you 'extra grouchiness', you slagger! _You_ try having an old war wound that hurts worse than Pit and only does so right before something _bad_ happens, which causes your CPU to ache from worrying and being paranoid and then add three no-good malfunctioning glitches _arguing_ on top of it!" He grabbed an astonished Bumblebee and shoved him into his now-vacant chair, pushing too hard, accidentally causing the smaller bot to topple off. "Since _you've_ got nothing better to do, _you_ can have monitor duty!" And the enraged medical officer marched out of the room so fast they would have thought he was being pursued by Decepticons, rubbing his left forearm, fuming quietly.

Stunned silence filled the room, all three staring at the door, expectantly, although none of them were sure of what they were waiting for. They exchanged a shocked look, then turned back to the door.

"I think someone needs to find balance with those around him," Bumblebee squeaked from the floor.

XXXXX

Ratchet blasted out of the base, tearing past a returning Prime and Bulkhead, startling both. Optimus transformed hurriedly, running after him.

"Ratchet? Where are you going!?"

Ratchet turned off his communication lines and shot away. He wove around the city, barely registering the pedestrians diving out of his way, cars honking at him, squealing brakes or angry shouts. His fury finally dissipated some time later, and he looked around to find himself at the docks on Lake Michigan. Dinobot Island was visible in the distance.

The old medic transformed and slumped his shoulders in dismay and…shame? It had been several stellar cycles since he had last felt that emotion. It hadn't been right of him to yell at Prowl and Bumblebee and poor Sari like that—Primus knew the young girl had more than enough on her mind worrying about her father. But it was the truth. His injury had never healed properly, and pain relieving uploads no longer had any effect on it. And he _had_ noticed that it hurt worst just before bad news arrived. And recently they had received far too much bad news.

He sat down on one of the docks and shuttered his optics, relishing in the quiet. A bright light flashed against his optic covers suddenly, and at the same instant his arm throbbed painfully. Grasping the offending limb, he opened his optics and met the sight of a meteoroid blazing across the sky.

The medic lumbered to his feet, frowning as he followed the trajectory of the streaking light. He transformed and chased after it at full speed, siren wailing, ignoring the beep that signaled an incoming transmission. He wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet.

Ratchet had almost reached the crash site when three jets, each bearing the Decepticon symbol, flashed overhead. A moment later, a dozen ground-to-air missiles filled the sky, streaming for their targets, and the trio scattered. Then the Autobot rounded the last bend and skidded to a stop, standing up.

There was along furrow gouged out of the earth. At the end where it was widest, a Decepticon femme was making a last stand, a huge, vaguely familiar sword in her grip. In fact, everything about her was vaguely familiar.

As Ratchet watched, the three jets transformed and landed in a circle around her. They exchanged words, but only for a moment. The three attacked almost simultaneously, and the femme activated her thrusters, shooting skywards, leaving the three to dodge their comrade's attacks. A missile followed her, however, and she tumbled from the sky to land only an arm's length from Ratchet.

Face grimacing in pain, electrical lines sparking, one thruster smoking, the soot-smeared and filthy femme shook dirt from her flickering optics, the scarlet orbs finding his cyan ones. Through the desperation and pain, recognition passed, and he realized that he did remember her, though it was not a pleasant memory.

"Hide!" she hissed, forcing herself to her feet as a missile slammed into the space she had previously occupied, forcing Ratchet to seek cover.

When the smoke cleared, she taken off in a shaky flight, the trio quickly giving chase. Ratchet picked himself up, staring after them, barely aware of the arrival of the other Autobots and the human police chief, Captain Fanzone.

"Ratchet?" Optimus asked quietly, having come up behind him. "Did you see anything?"

For a moment the Autobot leader thought the medic would not answer.

"No," Ratchet finally said, resigned, a faraway look in his optics that Optimus had come to recognize meant he was reliving a moment from the war. "I didn't see anything."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Well, there it is! Hope you enjoyed it! If so, why don't you tell me about it? Reviews ensure a quick update. ;)


	2. Assistance

**Author's Note**: Chapter two! School has started. Expect updates every two months, though if I get a chance it will be sooner. Sorry, but I didn't have any free time over summer, much less with classes! Rrr! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: Love _Transformers_. Don't own it. (sigh) Same for _Transformers: Animated_. Can't wait for season three. (sigh) Wingshadow _is _mine, however, and this plot!

Chapter 2

"Ratchet?" Optimus called, walking quickly through the abandoned warehouse that served as their base. He paused in the doorway where Bumblebee and Sari were playing the racing game again. "Have either of you seen Ratchet?" It had been two days since the mysterious meteoroid had hit, and to say the medic had not been himself would be an understatement.

"No," the two chorused in unison, eyes and optics not leaving the screen. Optimus continued down the hallway, towards the living quarters.

"Ratchet?" he called again, knocking on the old medic's door.

"He's not here."

Prime turned to see Prowl poised in the doorway to the monitor control room.

"Well then where is he?" Optimus snapped, more than slightly annoyed. He immediately regretted the harshness of the question. "Sorry, Prowl," he started, but the ninja-bot waved it away.

"He left early this morning. I believe he was heading to the ship."

"Thanks, Prowl," Optimus said, and raised a hand to his audio receptor to try to contact Ratchet. "_Ratchet?_" Static was all that met him. "Let me know if you hear from him," Optimus called over his shoulder to Prowl, headed for the door.

XXXXX

Ratchet had indeed headed to the ship that morning, hoping for some comfort and relief from the questions that plagued his processor, working diligently on a reprogramming sequence to distract himself. The mystery of the femme's sudden and seemingly random appearance was enough to put him on edge; he had discovered the hard way that nothing good happened when _she_ was around. But her being here, _chased_ by her faction, and _not_ blasting him—it made him even _more_ suspicious. Had he misjudged her the last time? Had he…underestimated her? Was there a chance that the femme had done what she had because she truly _had_ cared about him, not just to save her own plating?

Unfortunately, the reassuring bulk of Omega Supreme, a brave Autobot and old friend who had given up his spark star cycles ago, did little to belie his worries. Ratchet reached out and pressed a key, powering down the terminal. As he was about to close his optics and lean back to rest tiredly in his chair, however, a glint of red across the room caught his attention, and the medic jumped in surprise, throwing himself out of the chair with a _thud!_ He quickly pulled himself up the console, glaring over it and into unmoving crimson orbs watching him out of a still face he had failed to notice before. He sputtered for several seconds before closing his mouth components and simply staring as he slowly sat back down in his chair. Neither spoke for another cycle, and Ratchet purposely ignored the buzz of an incoming transmission.

"It's been a long time, Ratchet," the intruder finally said, coming forward. She was exactly as he remembered: tall, slim, and lithe, but he knew that she was far stronger than the appearance her frame radiated. The Decepticon reprogramming had given her greater size than most femme, as well as greater firepower. She, as were all Decepticons, was a fighter, designed specifically to kill. But there was one small difference between this current image and the ancient one in his memories: what had remained of the underlying soft innocence of her youth that the Decepticons had not immediately stripped away was long gone. All that was left was a tough, experienced, battle scarred seeker. And from the looks of her plating, she had seen quite a lot of action since he had last laid optics on her.

He narrowed his optics. "What do _you_ want, you backstabbing double-crosser?"

A hint of sadness gleamed in the depths of her optics. "I apologize for that. I did what I had to."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said in a mocking tone. "To cover your own aft and all that other blah. Spare me the details."

It was now hurt that was reflected back at him. "You don't understand!" she cried, covering the rest of the distance between them and setting her clawed hands on the console. "Yes, you're right: I did what I had to to defend my position. But if I had simply walked away, they would have made short work of you. They thought I had offlined you, so they didn't bother to check! I did what I had to to save your miserable life!"

Ratchet met her glare with a stoic one. The femme's face twisted in frustration and she slammed both fists into the console before whirling away from him. Tension mounted for a cycle, then she visibly forced herself to relax.

"Regardless of the situation when we last parted, and regardless of how much it dents my pride," she started, causing him to sit up straighter, "I came here with a very specific mission in mind." She turned back to face him, optics full of determination. "I need your help."

XXXXX

Optimus stopped beside the Ark not twenty cycles after leaving their base. He transformed, walking towards the hatch. "Ratchet?" he called, getting no answer, though he expected none. He was beginning to worry about the cankerous veteran. It wasn't like Ratchet to ignore transmission beacons and run off without telling him. Shrugging, he entered the ship.

He stopped in the control room first and found nothing. He slowly headed to the back, searching each room carefully, finding nothing out of place. He paused halfway through his examination as a low warble reached his audio-receptors. Voices? Yes, most certainly voices, two of them, one definitely Ratchet's drawl, the other female. Silently, a hand reaching for his axe, the Autobot leader followed the sound to the medical bay and paused outside the door, listening intently.

"—why I came to you. With the lies Hook's telling, not a single Decepticon would even _consider_ listening to me. I'm branded as a traitor."

"And you think _I _can help you with this?"

"You know as well as I that any other Autobot would have shot me before I could so much as transform! Ratchet, I came to you because you are the only mech in the _universe_ I can trust! Even if you _are_ one of the Autoscum."

"It might help your case some if you stop insulting me."

"Sorry. You're right, as usual, and ow! That hurt, slag it!"

"Good. Stay still! What exactly did you do to yourself anyway? Fight the entire Decepticon army?"

"In a way, yes."

"I was being facetious!"

"I know."

"By the Spark, femme, it's a hard enough time figuring out where all these pieces fit without you moving and griping at me!"

Optimus rounded the corner slowly, confused. His optics widened in shock and disbelief. Ratchet was studiously bent over, welding carefully. His patient had her faceplate turned away, optics narrow, wincing slightly. She would have been as tall as Sentinel standing up, perhaps a little taller, and was slim but very well armed with what must have been dozens of battle upgrades. A pair of wings slanted down from her shoulders, a purple insignia emblazoned on them.

She spotted him then, leaning back slightly, suspicious, optics widening, unsure if he posed any threat. "Ratchet…"

Her tone made him look up, and the medic followed the line of her optics behind him to meet Optimus'. For a moment, the three simply stared in shock, tension mounting. Then Ratchet pasted a cheery smile on his face.

"There you are, Prime!" he said, striding across the room with his arms spread wide open, draping one over his leader's shoulder. "Could I have a word with you?" he asked innocently, pulling Optimus away from the doorway, into the hall, reaching behind him to shut and lock the door.

"I think you had better have more than a _word_ for me, Ratchet," was the last thing Wingshadow heard before the door blocked their voices. The click of the lock initiating made her narrow her optics, but she forced her tight servos to relax. She had come this far; she had to trust Ratchet.

The terminal beside the exam table caught her attention, and she rose to her feet, stepping over to it carefully. She reached out with one claw, activating the console. The words ACCESS DENIED. INPUT CODE. flashed across the screen, glowing bright green letters. She shrugged indifferently and flipped the power switch, then booted it up again, hacking the password before the lock could initiate. Another moment and she was sorting through the ship's data banks, scanning quickly, trying to discern how many Autobots were currently stationed on this planet and why.

There were currently eight Autobots on the planet, which was called Earth: Ratchet was a medic, of course; Optimus Prime, the mech in the hallway, was their leader; a Cyber-ninja-bot named Prowl; the leading space bridge expert by the name of Bulkhead; and a speedy little bot named Bumblebee. _An interesting combination_, she mused, drawing up the ship's log. Here a security program asked her for her name and rank, which she overrode easily. The list scrolled down, and she clicked on the first one. Their mission had been repairing space bridges, apparently, until accidentally discovering the All-Spark. This caused her optics ridges to rise. They had fled before a ship the ship's computer had identified as the _Nemesis_. The data continued, reporting that they had entered a space bridge and the _Nemesis_ had been supposed destroyed in the explosion. The next words kindled a hope in her that had long been extinguished.

Since then, the report continued, the Autobots had landed on Earth, battling Megatron, who had boarded their ship. He had been knocked out on the landing, however, and the five had spent the last 50 solar cycles in stasis lock. The only other thing worthy of note was that an Elite Guard ship had landed three Earth orbital cycles ago, the crew consisting of Ultra Magnus, Jazz and Sentinel Prime.

_Isn't that convenient?_ She thought, flipping the power switch off and on again, deleting her trail. She had not heard about any of them except Ultra Magnus, of course, but that mattered little.

XXXXX

Optimus barely contained his anger until the door hissed shut. "Just _what_ is a _Decepticon _doing aboard Omega Supreme!?" he shouted, making Ratchet step backwards, hands held out in front of him defensively.

"I can explain, Prime—"

"Oh, you'll be explaining alright! To Ultra Magnus!"

"No! Optimus, you can't blow her cover yet!"

"Why not?"

"Because she has information we need! Just listen to me for a cycle!"

Optimus crossed his arms, optics narrow. "This had better be good."

"First off, I didn't know she was on board when I came here this morning. I've had a lot on my CPU and was just working on a diagnostic, and I looked up and there she was! Then she told me she needed my help." He paused. "We _do_ need to tell Magnus about that. She has uncovered a plot to completely wipe out both the Autobots and Decepticons."

"How?"

"We haven't gotten that far in our conversation yet!"

Optimus relaxed, and Ratchet was relieved to see the anger slowly draining from his frame. "Why did she come to _you_?"

Ratchet stammered. "I…We met during the war…once…in battle…" he stopped. "It's a long story."

"She doesn't seem to like you. I heard the name she called you."

"Oh, she's far from being happy about being here, but the orchestrator of this plan, Hook or something or other, knows that she knows and is hunting for her or something. They're Decepticons! It slags my processor to try to understand it."

"I'd like to talk to her."

Ratchet nodded and unlocked the door. Wingshadow was sitting where they left her, and turned to face them when they answered, her optics flicking from Ratchet to Optimus. Optimus glanced at Ratchet, who waved him to go ahead.

"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots here on Earth. Ratchet informs me you need our help. Would you care to elaborate,…?" he left the sentence hanging for her to provide her name.

"Wingshadow," the seeker filled, "and no."

Optimus' hopeful, polite face fell, and he blinked.

"Oh, for Spark's sake, Wingshadow!" Ratchet cried. "You want me to help you? Well Optimus here can do a lot more than I can, and I can't do anything without him knowing anyway!"

The Decepticon leveled a glare on him and rose to her full height, towering over Optimus. "Just how badly to you want to help?"

He took a step backwards. "It depends on how serious the situation is."

The glare swung back to Ratchet. "You didn't tell him!?"

"You haven't told _me_!" the medic retaliated, stepping towards her, ignoring the blunt fact that he was looking up.

The femme allowed her shoulders to relax and locked optics with Optimus' again. "I do not take kindly to those who betray me," she said, speaking to them both. "Only those you trust are to know about me. And when all is said and done, I am guaranteed safe passage off-planet, or away from wherever we are. Do you agree to those terms?"

Optimus exchanged a glance with Ratchet. "Yes," he said.


End file.
